


Time and Time Again

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drama, Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 13:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: These days Coulson is all about second chances.





	Time and Time Again

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a vague post-Age of Ultron/series 3 of Agents of SHIELD timeline minus the Farm.

This wasn't the way this was meant to happen. In all the ways Coulson had imagined this moment, finally able to tell the Avengers that he was alive, he hadn't dreamed that he'd be standing between a pissed off Hawkeye and a man with a bomb strapped to his chest.

Coulson had tried, and failed, to get the bomber to see reason and now all he could hear was the Avengers and his team chattering in his ear. They were up high, somewhere in the rafters while he was down here with his back to them, facing the bomber. The civilians they were trying to protect were huddled to one side, shielded by a table, as safe as he'd been able to make them.

“There's nothing more we can do from here,” he heard Captain Rogers say.

“There is one thing,” Clint said and Coulson relaxed, tried not to tense up his body, tried not to anticipate, unsurprised to be on the same page as the sniper.

“Take the shot,” he said, voice as calm as he could make it. He heard someone squawk, Stark he thought, and then the bullet was entering his shoulder and coming out of his chest and into the wrist of the bomber, severing the power source and rendering the bomb inactive. Coulson dropped to the floor, mostly of his own volition and took a deep breath before kicking the feet out from under the bomber who fell on the floor and stayed there, looking dazed.

There was movement and action all around him, the Avengers' uniforms too bright to his tired eyes but it was Daisy who got to him first, closely followed by Simmons who already had her medical kit in hand and was fussing about him, injecting him with something before he had chance to ask her what it was. He supposed he didn't need to.

He didn't see Hawkeye, but that was hardly surprising.

He did wince as he stood up and flexed his shoulder but he hoped (knew) that Clint wouldn't have hit anything vital.

“I'm fine,” he told Simmons, but she ignored him, as he expected her to. He searched out the Avengers with the corner of his eye but they were bickering about the best way to transport their bomber wannabe.

“Mack and May are taking the civilians to safety,” Daily briefed him, unprompted. “Hawkeye's packing up his things. I don't think he's planning on hanging around.”

Coulson nodded, he'd expected as much. Asking Clint to shoot him, especially when he had his back to the sniper was bound to bring up things that Clint didn't need to have staring him in the face, not when Coulson was a living breathing reminder of everything that had happened on the helicarrier.

“You need proper treatment,” Simmons said, brooking no argument.

Coulson nodded, wondering just where his voice had gone. He didn't miss the look Daisy and Simmons exchanged but pretended he hadn't seen it, though he suspected he wasn't fooling anyone.

He supposed it didn't really matter as he let himself be lead out to their surveillance van at the back of the warehouse and be transported to their temporary base – there had never been any question of letting the Avengers on one of their actual bases.

When they got there he noted that Clint had somehow made it back before him but he was manhandled into Medical before he could say anything. Which was just as well considering he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say.

* * * **

At some point Coulson must have agreed to sedation, or more likely the team had gone ahead and done it without him. When he woke up his left arm was in a sling, not exactly an unfamiliar feeling and he was lying in the infirmary. All pretty much business as usual until he spotted Clint sitting in the seat next to his bed. As best he could tell he was playing Candy Crush.

There was something shockingly familiar about it that sent his heart spiking and the monitors around him beeping furiously.

Clint was up and calling for help before Coulson could get himself coordinated enough to stop him.

“What is it?” Simmons asked, rushing in with a sandwich in one hand and a pen in the other.

“I'm fine, just didn't expect to wake up here,” Coulson said, which was mostly true. Simmons dismissed his words with a glance and settled on reading monitors. She nearly scribbled a message on his notes with her sandwich before she realised what she was doing and Coulson had to fight harder than normal not to smile fondly at her.

“When can I get out of here?” he asked.

“Not till the morning at the earliest,” Simmons said. “You were shot, you know.”

“I'm aware,” Coulson confirmed. “A good, clean through and through,” he added. Clint snorted and went to sit back down.

“There's sandwiches and things in the break room...” Simmons suggested only to be interrupted by Natasha walking in with two plates piled high with food. “Oh, well, okay. I'll check in on you later.”

“Thank you, Jemma,” Coulson said and she smiled and headed out. She paused at the threshold and motioned with her gaze to where Natasha and Clint were sitting. Coulson used one of their field signals to let her know that he'd be fine and she slowly moved off.

“Your team don't trust us?” Natasha asked.

“They think you're angry with me.”

“And you don't?”

“Oh, I _know_ you are,” he replied.

Clint took a big bite into a sandwich. “What would make you think that?” he asked with his mouth full.

“I have apologised,” Coulson said. Because he had. Ever since their teams had bumped into each other, both getting to the bomber via different sources and deciding that the only thing they could do was team up, he'd apologised to them collectively and individually. It had taken getting Maria Hill on video phone before they really believed the story that he was telling them though, and he still thought Stark believed it all to be one giant con.

“Yeah, you have,” Clint said and Coulson found he couldn't tell what Clint's neutral tone really meant any more.

He'd thought he and Clint and Natasha made a good team but it had mostly been the two of them in the field and him back in some way station relaying orders and when it all inevitably went to hell they mostly got themselves out of trouble. He hadn't dared think of them as friends; that wasn't really what SHIELD had been for him, not till recently. And he certainly hadn't let himself believe that there could be more to the way Clint sometimes looked at him, hopeful and considering.

The silence stretched on and Coulson tried to think of something else to say but other than offer another apology he didn't know what he _could_ say, and besides which his shoulder was starting to ache and he'd really quite like to close his eyes and have a nap.

It probably said something that he was able to drift off with two of the deadliest people on the planet staring at him, but he wasn't sure what that was.

* * * * *

He woke to find Daisy sitting next to him, her legs resting on the edge of his bed, her head bent forward over her tablet. He watched her through hooded eyes, aware of the fond smile he couldn't seem to stop and that Clint was standing in the doorway, observing them both.

“Has everyone else left?” Coulson asked, looking over at Clint.

Daisy hummed her agreement. “Except Hawkeye,” she said, and motioned back with a stray hand to where Clint was standing, not looking up from her work.

“Your team don't seem all that impressed with superheroes,” Clint said, amused.

“My team is full of superheroes,” Coulson replied.

Daisy looked up at that, rolled her eyes, and stood up. “Jemma says you can have food, if you're up to it?”

“Please,” Coulson agreed. “Coffee?”

“No chance.”

Clint watched her go, not moving out of her way as he slouched in the doorway. Coulson watched Clint watching her and wondered what fresh hell the new day was going to bring.

“Does it hurt?”

“It's fine.”

“You've got worse at lying.”

Coulson's lips twitched. “Maybe I've just never tried with you.”

Clint snorted. “You think we're friends?”

“No,” Coulson said, turning away from Clint to look at his toes. “I don't think that.”

By the time Coulson gathered the courage to look back, Clint was gone.

* * * * *

Clint showed no signs of leaving the base for the next week and Coulson couldn't find it in him to ask how long he intended to stay, so he said nothing, and waited for the other shoe to drop. Naturally when it did it belonged to Daisy.

“How long have you known Barton?” she asked Coulson as he was finishing off his day's physiotherapy exercises.

“A while,” he replied, and then “seven years, I suppose” after she'd huffed at him and helped him into his jacket.

“Did you recruit him?”

Coulson smiled to himself. “No, Fury did that himself.”

“Like he did with you?”

Coulson hummed his agreement and then turned towards Daisy. “Why the questions?”

“I'm just interested, that's all.”

“ _Daisy._ ”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Fine. We were just wondering...”

“We?”

“Jemma and Fitz and...me. If you and Barton were, you know, in the past.”

“You know what?” he asked, blandly, pretending he had no idea what she was talking about, though it was hardly the first time people had assumed.

“Fine. Don't tell me,” she replied. “I'm going back to the warehouse with Fitz and Simmons, see if there's anything we missed before.”

“Daisy, wait,” Coulson said, just as she disappeared out the room and then stuck her head back through the door. “What made you ask?”

“You can only pretend to not notice how he looks at you for so long, Coulson,” she said. “After that it's just cruel.”

She waited a second, their gazes locked, and then she headed off, her disappointment palpable.

It wasn't the first time Coulson had wished for less perceptive team mates.

* * * * *

Coulson found Clint on the range, as he'd expected. Someone, probably Mack, had set it up for the use of Clint's bow and he was there making smiley faces in the cardboard cut-outs.

“Hey,” Coulson said, quietly, between Clint running out of arrows and going to collect some more. Clint glanced at him quickly and then away again. “Can we talk?”

For an answer Clint released another series of arrows, this time a face with a frown. Coulson snorted.

“Is that a no...or...?”

“What do you think we have to talk about?”

“You stayed,” Coulson said, taking a few tentative steps forward. “You could have left with the others, but you didn't.”

“I shot you,” Clint said, still staring down the range. “Maybe I'm just making sure you're being taken care of.”

“And maybe that's not why you stayed.”

Clint put his bow down on the table next to him and turned around to face Coulson. “Why did I stay?”

“Because you have unfinished business with me,” Coulson said, hoping he was right. “Because you're a braver man than I am.”

Clint leaned back against the table. “We can't just...start up again from where we left off, Phil. I thought we were about to start something and then...I visited your grave every day for a month until Nat dragged me away. Told what I'm guessing was an empty casket, things that...things that I'm not going to be able to say to your face. If you cared even a little bit, you would have sought me out before now. I deserved that much.”

Coulson nodded, because he couldn't disagree. All the reasons for secrecy had seemed so valid and real before. Before SHIELD fell, before he knew what was real and what wasn't. There had been moments when he could have contacted Clint, if he'd wanted to. And he hadn't.

“So, I guess I don't need to stay any more then, do I?”

“You don't need to, no,” Coulson agreed. “But at least let me buy you dinner.”

“You think dinner's all it'll take?”

“Dinner's a classic for a reason.”

Clint's lips twitched into an almost smile and he uncrossed his arms. “Ask me again next month,” he said after a moment. “I've got to get back to the Tower.”

“Okay,” Coulson agreed.

They stood staring at each other a moment and then Clint shook his head and walked out of the room, brushing his hand against Coulson's as he did. Coulson's fingers twitched but he told himself that grabbing Clint and kissing him was not the responsible thing to do no matter how much he wanted to.

* * * *

In the end, because his life was straight out of a comic book, it took Coulson two months before he had a spare moment when something impossible wasn't trying to kill him and his team to make the phone call to Clint.

“Sorry, Phil who?” Clint asked on the fourth ring.

Coulson sighed. “Can we just pretend that I said something flirtatious here that made you laugh?”

Clint snorted. “Bad day, huh?”

“Bad lifetime. But I'm hoping a certain archer with arms to die for would be interested in cheering me up over dinner on Saturday night?”

“Did you indeed?” Clint asked, but Coulson could hear the smile and he immediately relaxed back in his chair.

“I've really missed talking to you,” Coulson said. “You have no idea how many times I've wanted to shoot the person who got in the way of me making this call.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Please Clint, have dinner with me?”

There was a long pause and Coulson stilled his breathing. “Okay. But I can't do Saturday. How you fixed for Tuesday?”

“I'll make it work,” Coulson said, not caring who he might have to bribe to make sure it happened.

“You're keen,” Clint said, and it sounded like he was laughing.

“You noticed that, huh?”

“Okay, I gotta go. Stark looks like he's about to hack in to this phone call.”

“Tell him I'm flattered,” Coulson said and Clint did just that, Stark muttering something he was sure was obscene just out of his range of hearing.

“I really do have to go,” Clint said.

“Okay,” Coulson replied. “Can I call you again, before our date?”

“Sure. I'd like that.”

Clint hung up before Coulson could fully hear what Stark was shouting in the background, but as it sounded very like “phone sex” and “orgasm” he decided to banish it from his mind.

* * * * *

Taking Clint at his word that he was busy on Saturday Coulson waited until Sunday afternoon to call him again. He'd disappeared to his quarters while the others were either playing a video game or punching something or dissecting something, so business as relatively usual.

He had a beer and nothing he needed to do so he settled down to sit on his bed and made the call.

“Of course,” he muttered to himself as it went straight through to voicemail. Clint was probably off somewhere helping to save the world.

“Hey Clint, it's me...Phil. I...I just wanted to hear your voice. And check we're still on for Tuesday?...I'll talk to you again soon.”

Coulson hung up before any more words came tripping out over his tongue and ran his good hand over his face. He never used to have any trouble talking to Clint. He'd never had any trouble imagining what he'd really like to say to Clint either, and now it felt like that was one too many lifetimes ago. He'd thought he'd buried those feelings so deep inside himself that no amount of SHIELD fiddling around with his brain was going to make a difference, but maybe there wasn't a part of him that was just him any more.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone next to him started to ring.

“Smooth, Phil, real smooth,” he muttered to himself as he answered the phone. “Coulson.”

“Clint's been hurt,” Natasha said. “You need to get to New York.”

She hung up on him before he could ask any questions.

* * * * *

May and Daisy insisted on coming with him, May driving with Daisy very carefully not asking any of the questions Coulson could tell she wanted to. He stared out of the window, not really taking anything in. He'd thought he'd have more time, be able to fix past mistakes. He'd thought this was a second chance. Not the last one he was going to get.

They found a space in the Tower's underground car park waiting for them and then Pepper Potts appeared out of nowhere and beckoned them towards her.

“Phil,” she said, taking a moment to wrap him in a hug before steering him along. “Don't think I'm not mad at you, but we've all agreed to postpone that for the moment.”

The four of them stepped into the elevator and started to ascend.

“What happened?” Coulson asked.

“You've heard of AIM? Oh, of course you have. The team linked the bomber to one of their ex-scientists. She'd been working deep undercover for years in the CIA and started her own splinter group. She was planning on selling some new explosives on the black market and wanted to use a demonstration of them against the Avengers as her calling card.” Pepper paused and patted Coulson's arm. “She blew up the building Clint was perched on. Tony grabbed him before he hit the ground but he's pretty bruised. There were some worries about his legs... but no, don't worry, he started wriggling his toes before I came down.”

Coulson breathed a deep sigh of relief. “He's awake then?”

“In and out, but the doctors are more hopeful than when Natasha called you.” The elevator doors silently opened. “You and Clint,” she asked, “this is new?”

“It's been the elephant in the room for a long time,” Coulson replied before stepping onto what was obviously the Tower's medical floor.

Flanked by May and Daisy Coulson entered the room where Clint was lying in bed, Natasha curled up in the seat next to him. His eyes were closed but Coulson knew from long experience that he was awake.

He felt Natasha's eyes on him as he walked over to Clint's bedside and without hesitating put his hand over Clint's, just skimming over his fingers.

“How is he?” Coulson asked.

“Stubborn,” Natasha replied. “Not as funny as he thinks he is. Definitely not as quick as he thinks he is.”

Clint slowly blinked awake. “What happened to sympathy?” he asked with an exaggerated pout.

“What happened to not jumping before someone was ready to catch you?” she replied.

Clint tried to shrug and then gasped and closed his eyes. Coulson linked his fingers with Clint's and was pleased when Clint gave them a quick squeeze.

“Of course you jumped,” Coulson said, having been witness to more than one of Clint's acrobatic feats in the field.

“I didn't have much choice,” Clint said, throwing a baleful glance in Natasha's direction. She just shrugged and unfurled herself from the chair.

“Come on,” she said to May and Daisy, “I'll show you around.”

Coulson watched them leave and then sat down in Natasha's vacated chair. Clint turned his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow.

“We're all alone,” he said.

Coulson looked pointedly around at the clear glass walls. “Hardly inconspicuous,” he pointed out.

“How's that any different to the last decade?” Clint asked, eyes sharper and more focused than they had been when Coulson arrived. Coulson twitched.

“Probably not at all,” Coulson admitted and shifted forward to take Clint's hand again. “Rain check on dinner?”

Clint almost went to shrug again, realised what he was about to do and then shifted a little to make himself more comfortable. “Stark keeps a well stocked kitchen. You can probably find enough for a sandwich. If you want to keep me company?”

“I'd like that,” Coulson said, realising that no matter what he tried, he couldn't stop smiling. Before he could stand up to leave Pepper came back into the room carrying a tray.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we thought you might want something to eat.” She put the tray down on the small table by Coulson's seat. “Agents Johnson and May are eating in the kitchen with the rest of us.”

Coulson's smile definitely faltered a little at that and Clint didn't bother to try and keep his laughter in check.

“Thank you,” Coulson said and kept his sigh inside until Pepper had left. “This is all your fault.”

“It's not like they didn't hang out at your secret base,” Clint pointed out.

“Yes, but that was...” Coulson sighed again. “That was in a controlled environment.”

Clint laughed outright then. “I don't think that means what you think it does.”

Coulson sheepishly picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite in order not to say anything. Clint shifted a little in the bed and grinned at him.

* * * * **

Coulson ended up spending three nights at the Tower and only had to endure Stark calling him Zombie Agent for two of them. Daisy and May left him to it, with May telling him not to mess things up this time became she wasn't going to pick up the pieces again.

Clint was itching to get out of the medical lab after the first day but was only persuaded to stay where he was when Natasha and Coulson ganged up on him.

“I'm a grown man, you know,” Clint complained on the last day, “if I want to discharge myself...” He trailed off in the face of Natasha looking at him and then cocking her head to the side.

Coulson coughed to cover up his laugh.

“I hate you both,” Clint muttered.

“So you don't want us to take you out for lunch, then?” Coulson asked, holding up some of Clint's clothes. He was out of bed and dressed before Natasha was anywhere near finished laughing at him.

* * * * * *

Natasha disappeared before the check arrived, claiming she had a meeting to get to, leaving Clint and Coulson sitting across from each other in a booth, their legs resting against each other.

“I could get used to this,” Coulson said, draining the last of his coffee.

“Yeah?” asked Clint, deceptively casual. He kept his eyes on his pasta, twirling his fork over and over again. Coulson stopped him by putting his hand on Clint's leg.

“Yes.” He gave Clint's leg a squeeze then let it go. “I've made some mistakes, god you have no idea how many mistakes, but I – you'd never be one of them.”

“Huh,” Clint said, scooting around the booth so he was sitting next to Coulson. “I kinda promised Nat I wouldn't do this yet.”

“Do what?” Coulson asked.

Instead of answering, Clint leaned forward and kissed Coulson, a soft press of lips at first which Coulson moved forward to deepen, his hand coming around to cup the base of Clint's skull, smiling against Clint's lips as he almost purred when Coulson gently stroked at his hair.

“I'm glad you changed your mind.”

“Me too,” Clint said, then slid a little away from Coulson, as if afraid he might start kissing him again.

They shared a small smile and then concentrated on finishing their meal.

* * * * *

It was hard, harder than Coulson had imagined, even in his worst nightmares of messing everything up, to get time alone to spend with Clint. Mad scientists kept trying to blow up the world, the Avengers kept stopping the world blowing up but didn't manage to avoid blowing up a few buildings, Clint kept jumping off things without looking and Coulson kept putting himself in harm's way.

But somehow it worked. Coulson's team, particularly Daisy, seemed to be heavily invested in making it work and, much to Coulson's surprise, the Avengers also seemed to be doing their best to make sure it worked. Of course in their case it involved regular breaches of his own and SHIELD's security, or at least attempts therewith, and Coulson having to ask Captain “you can call me Steve” America to reign his team in.

Clint just found the whole thing hilarious.

But he woke up in Coulson's bed at SHIELD more times than not, so Coulson found he didn't mind.


End file.
